The Pupil in Denial
by Schneephoenix
Summary: So here Sherlock Holmes was. At the brink of telling a story no one ever had heard from him, a story no one ever bothered to listen to because no one ever had asked for it, it was always just the way things had become, the way things were.


The Pupil in Denial

The thing is I am equally impressed by The Woman but I can't stop this... I can't.

It's is a different style, don't know why, I like it this way though. So have fun ;)

Molly is not mine, neither is Sherlock.

M: What made you become the way you are?

S: What makes you think there is a reason behind my behaviour?

M: You are Sherlock Holmes. Of course there is a reason for the way you have chosen to be, a reason why you decided to be who you are!

Was there a point to secrecy anymore? It would be rather hypocritical of him to go back to not care when just hours ago he pretended to kill himself for the sake of saving three lives - three rather much important lives. This is about truth here isn't it?

M: We can talk about something else if you like, I am sorry for considering that you might open up now after all what happened... I am so...

S: No. Don't be, you are right I have chosen to be who I am because I had to learn the hard way that caring, after all, is not an advantage. My grandfather tried to teach me, I wouldn't listen.

M:What... emm what. - Hard way? What do you mean by this?

S: I am fairly sure you know what I mean, but you want to know the story behind the hard way, don't you? Everyone does, every caring person does.

M: Are you willing to share the story?

S: You are willing to share your flat with me; in a way this means you are willing to share your life with me. It would only be fair, wouldn't it?

M: You don't have to, I shouldn't have started...

S: Don't be like this Molly. It doesn't suit you.

M: I... What...

S: My father was the only person I know who was even more sentimental and caring than you are.

So here Sherlock Holmes was. At the brink of telling a story no one ever had heard from him, a story no one ever bothered to listen to because no one ever had asked for the story, it was always just the way things had become, the way things were.

M: What happened to him?

S: He died when I was eleven.

M: I am sorry.

S: It was hardly your fault!

M: It is not about whose fault it was, I am sorry that you had to live through it while being so young.

The truth was written all over her face and maybe he didn't need to continue because there was a sudden understanding within their relationship that frightened Sherlock to a certain extent. But it was hardly comparable with the fright he had for being helpless or being disappointed. It was more in the direction of realizing that he needn't to be alone.

S: When father died, my mother was constantly on the edge; at some point Mycroft decided that they weren't able to handle her alone anymore so he had called our grandparents for assistance. This was not the best idea concerning our mother but it was a burden less on Mycroft's shoulders, who needed to prepare for collage rather than care for a depressed mother and boy who wanted to become a pirate.

M: What were your grandparents like?

S: My grandmother was a lonely woman, once she had fallen in love with the idea of love and was bitterly disappointed when she realized that love was something she would never be able to receive from her husband. It was like this, I believe you know the stories of lonely hearts and broken dreams?

M: I can imagine.

S: And so grandmother had become bitter and no help in teaching me how to mourn for my father the way I would have needed.

There was no need in explaining to Molly that his father had been the most important person in his life and that he had stopped giving love when people had stopped giving him love. It was simple as that and Molly understood.

S: Grandfather had taught us how people worked and how to use them to our liking. He showed us how to lead an easy life and a successful one.

M: Are you grateful for what he did?

S: Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I got into drugs anyway so maybe not, on the other hand I am what he made of me and I use to like what I do, very much so.

M: You like being a cold bastard at most times?

S: I like you much more, being so bold and open.

M: You like being a cold bastard?

S: Caring is not an advantage.

M: Your friends would have died, hadn't you bothered to care.

S: I wouldn't have been in the situation in the first place hadn't I started caring at all.

M: But you did!

S: I did.

M: Why?

S: I am still my father's son.

M: And your grandfather's pupil.

S: Indeed. A pupil in denial.

M: This is highly pretentious.

S: But true.

M: I imagine your father would be broken-hearted seeing what have become of you.

S: Now this is pretentious!

M: It's not. It's fact.

There was nothing he could respond to this because it was true. But it hurt. Because no; he never really thought of it, because he concentrated on the living rather than on the dead.

M: But I am sure he is proud of you right now.

S: I would like to believe this.

M: What was the hard way though? You have not yet come to this part of the story.

S: It is a sad one. You are sure you want it anyway?

M: Sure, I don't believe there is much room for more tragedy today but please, I would like to understand!

S: I have tried to cheer my grandmother up. Nearly every hour of everyday, I wanted her to lead a happier life, because back then I wouldn't understand how someone can waste a whole life to nothingness. And it hurt me so much, knowing that she would most likely die this way. One day I collected a bouquet of flowers for her on my way home from school and she even forced a smile at me... the next hour however I found the flowers in the bin, outside the kitchen. It was the moment I decided to follow my grandfather's lead.

And Molly understood.


End file.
